Scars
by Poeko
Summary: Post-Allegiant. Three years after the war, Tobias has moved to New Orleans to escape the ghosts that haunted him in Chicago. Working at the Force, his life is dedicated to maintaining order and peace in the city. He tries to lose himself in work, when he meets a young Chicago-refugee who might hold certain answers, but also carries her own secrets. Rating may change over time.
1. Ghosts

_Hello everyone! So here's another_ _Divergent fanfiction. Although I adore Fourtris, I can't bring myself to rewriting the end or resurrecting Tris. So instead, I chose to write about Tobias and what happens to him after Allegiant. I felt so bad for him and the epilogue didn't give me any closure, so here I am, taking matters into my own hand._

_Please R&R, but keep in mind that English is not my first language and I don't have a Beta (yet)._

_Disclaimer: I do not own Divergent, Tobias, Zeke and the others, but Izzy is mine._

* * *

1. Ghosts

I look at the skyline, where the sun is setting. Orange streaks colour the darkening sky, like licking flames. Although the sun is almost gone, the warmth of the day still hangs heavily in the air, making my shirt stick to my body. After all these months, I still haven't gotten used to the heat. Chicago never had these hot temperatures, not even in summer. I hear high screeching sounds and look up. A flock of seagulls passes over my head, flying off into the distance. Their shapes form dark shadows in the sky.

Three birds. On her collarbone.

Closing my eyes I shake the image off my mind. I avert my gaze and stare at the bare wooden slates that form the roof of the apartment building in which I live. It is actually not much more than a large four-story shack, ancient and dilapidated. I rise to my feet and walk to the ledge. I jump down two stories – old habits die hard – and land on top of one of the outbuildings. I slip through the open window into my tiny apartment, stepping into the living room annex kitchen. The room is bare and simple, the only furniture consisting of two wooden chairs, a mismatched metal table and a threadbare couch.

I enter the bedroom and let myself fall on my stomach on the mattress, not even bothering to take a shower. I would be sweaty again in the morning anyway. Turning on my back, I look up at the stained ceiling. Maybe this night would be different. Maybe this night she wouldn't be in my dreams. Her greyish-blue eyes cut through the walls I had tried so hard to rebuild the past three years. When Zeke, Shauna and Christina announced they wanted to leave Chicago and see what is out there, I initially did not want to join them. But when Tris had showed up in my dreams again, this time laying dead on the dinner table in my house, I eventually decided to join them. Too many ghosts haunted me there.

I start to drift off to sleep, when the shadows on the ceiling begin to move. The slender frame of a young woman appears, her chin-length hair swaying as she moves. Suddenly, she lunges for something, her lean body stretching out. Her dive freezes in mid-air and she collapses to the ground, lying still. My breath hitches in my throat and I shoot up from the mattress, banging on the light-switch. Light floods the room and I collapse against the wall, sliding down to the ground. I draw my knees up and bury my head between them, concentrating on my breath and the dark veins in the wooden floor. It's over, it's all over.

When my breath is coming at even intervals again and my heart rate has slowed down, I scramble to my feet and open the door to the bathroom. I open the medicine cabinet and take out a small container with blue pills. Hesitantly, I open the lid and dump two pills in my hand. As I close the cabinet, a glance at my reflection in the mirror confirms my thoughts. I haven't slept in three days, and it's starting to show. As much as I hate it, I need the pills. I put the pills in my mouth and wash them down with some water. Turning of the lights, I return to the bed and close my eyes, almost immediately falling into the vast blackness of chemically imposed sleep.


	2. Isabelle

2. Isabelle

Pale green eyes stare back at me in the water, almond-shaped and slightly widened in wonder. Living factionless is strange, but nice. I never really felt like I belonged in Erudite anyway. Although I am smart – my IQ test confirmed that – it always felt like something was missing. People around me were colder and more calculated than I was, never deviating from their plan, whatever they might be.

I touch the surface of the water, sending a ripple through it. My reflection is distorted and for a moment, the scar is hardly visible, obscured by the movement. I touch my cheekbone, beneath my eye, where the edges of the ridge are raw. The scar extends from halfway up my forehead, cutting through my right brow, where it is interrupted by my eye socket, then continues again on my cheek until it ends at the level of my nostrils.

Closing my eyes, my hands skim over the mark and I can still feel the hot searing of the knife as it sliced across my face. I had been told that I was lucky she had just missed my eye.

Where would I have ended up? I didn't know, as the system had collapsed just before I was to take my aptitude-test. It didn't matter now anyway, the factions were gone. It was the only positive thing that had resulted from the war. Instead of feeling lost, it was actually quite liberating. I wasn't sure however if the losses had been worth it.

Sighing, I stand up and cast a last look at my reflection. I look like a factionless, wearing a strange collection of clothes. Black combat boots from Dauntless, an Amity earthy red dress, torn and ripped, complemented a black long cardigan from Candor. I had swapped my Erudite outfit as soon as I had the chance. My dark-blond curls are in knots and filth has gathered in them. Raking my fingers through it, the only result I achieve is tangling my hair even further. I give up and turn to look southwards, at the skyline of New Orleans. Maybe I would find my place here – or at least a place to properly have a shower.

Plunging my foot down in the muddy earth, I start making my way through the swampy grounds towards the city.


	3. The Force

_A/N: I couldn't keep myself from posting another chapter! I know the other two chapters are short, but they were basically introductory chapters to establish the setting and introduce Isabelle. From now on, the chapters will be longer. I won't be posting every day, but the more people read en review it, the more I'll feel motivated to write!_

_And please pretty please leave a review, so I know whether I'm on the right track or not. I have a general idea of where the story is headed but ideas and suggestions are always welcome!_

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3. The Force

"Tobias, are you ready?" I hear Christina's voice coming from the hallway.

I get up and open the door. Her black brown hair frames her round face and her sharp eyes sweep over me, pausing when see notices the dark bags under my eyes.

"You look like crap," she says.

I turn around and scratch my neck.

'Good morning to you too," I react sarcastically, walking towards the kitchen counter. I pick up my toast and take a bite. Christina plumps down on the sagging couch, almost disappearing in the padding. She crosses her arms.

"Are you taking your meds?" To most people her tone would come across as harsh, but I knew her Candor-straightforwardness washer way of expressing concern.

I sigh.

"Yes, I am." It wasn't a lie. I had taken them, just not regularly. I hated them, as they meant I had to concede to my weakness. Tris wouldn't have needed them, so neither would I.

Christina studies me for a moment, searching my face for traces of dishonesty, but gives up, as if she does not have the strength to maintain that trademark Candor-habit anymore. She works her way up from the couch.

"Let's go – I heard a new wave from Chicago is coming in today."

Although most have stayed, some of Chicago's inhabitants are now roaming from city to city, trying to find a place away from their hometown to build a new life. We weren't the only ones running from ghosts.

I eat the last of my toast and shut the door behind me, following Christina. We walk toward the line of the streetcars, one block from my apartment. They remind me of the trains in Chicago, except that they were much slower. When a streetcar comes around the corner, we start jogging lightly and jump in. Few people are standing in the car. A woman wearing black jeans and a red sweater is sitting in one of the few seats, a young boy in a black jumper and blue jeans holding on to the railing to stop from falling over. I am still getting used to all the different types of clothing. The traditional colours aren't mandatory anymore, but I still mostly wear grey and black. Today, I am dressed entirely in black, for my job at the Force.

Christina is silent and stares at the buildings slipping past. I don't speak either. As the streetcar rounds the corner near the city-centre, we jump out. We start walking towards a solid grey building, the Force Centre. The Force is responsible for maintaining order in the district. Not in the irregular and brutal way Dauntless used to, but by enforcing rules and laws in a more peaceful manner. We defended the weak and punished the criminal, not by using violence against them, but by putting them through a justice system. Upon arriving in New Orleans, I quickly found out that violence and death were a more prominent part of life here than in Chicago. By joining the Force, I had found a way to fight it and give my life some kind of a purpose again. It's what she would have wanted.

"Ah, I think that's them," Christina says, pointing to a large group of shabby looking people over at one of the entrances of the Centre. The immigrants from other districts first have to undergo a screening before they could settle in the city. The immigrants from Chicago mostly arrive in one group, having travelled together all the way by train. We call them Chicago's. My gaze slides over the group, hoping I won't recognize any of them. I didn't need any more memories to return. Luckily, I don't spot any familiar faces in the crowd, and we walk to the staff entrance.

We press our thumbs to the pad near the entrance and the automatic doors slide open.

Christina nods in the direction of the crowd, slowly trickling in through the customs entrance.

"Let's help them out," she says and we move towards the hallway where the Chicago's are queuing. There, each immigrant is taken into a room and screened by a member of the Force. I walk towards an unoccupied room and login on the screen before the door opens.

As I am about to enter the room, a scream pierces through the buzz of murmuring voices. I immediately turn as louder shouting echoes through the hallway. My heart rate picks up and my eyes swiftly scan the crowd, searching for the source of the noise. Then I see it: about halfway down the line, a girl is holding a knife to the throat of a man, who looks as if he is about to soil his pants.

As I sprint towards them, pushing people out of the way, I see she is holding the guy in a headlock, one arm behind his back and the other pinned under her arm. I can hear his whimpering pleas as he begs her to let go of him.

I reach them and immediately skid to a halt. If I come too close, I might frighten her and make her slit his throat. The man quivers under her hold. To my surprise, the girl does not seem to be that strong at first sight. However, the menacing glint in her eyes and the firm hold she has on the guy tell me otherwise. I have to be careful.

"Drop the knife. Please."

Her eyes, which were fixed intently upon the man, slowly move up to look at me. I was wrong. The look in her eyes isn't one of murder; it's one of fear, like a trapped animal acting in defence.

"Please," I repeat, keeping my voice calm. I can almost see the battle between reason and emotion waging behind her eyes. Eventually, she relaxes her hold on the man somewhat, but doesn't release the knife. The movement is hardly noticeable, but it provides the opening I need.

I dive forward, pushing the man out of her grasp and grabbing her wrist, twisting it so she is forced to drop the knife. She doesn't even utter a sound. I grab her other arm and hold them behind her back. To my surprise, she doesn't even try to resist. The man scrambles to his feet and runs to the side, to a woman. A circle has formed around us, the other members of the Force guarding the edges. The girl's sharp eyes are still following the man and I feel her body tense as he staggers toward a woman. That's when I see the woman's face. The print of a hand glows red on her face.

"Come on," I say under my breath into the girl's ear and start dragging her towards one of the rooms. She doesn't answer, but cooperates. I push her through the door and close it behind me. It automatically locks.

I turn around and see her standing in the middle of the room, her eyes taking in her surroundings apprehensively, her body still tense.

"Sit," I say, walking over to a chair and sitting down myself.

Her face is cast downwards, but her stare follows me, her greyish green eyes studying my moves. Cautiously, she sits down opposite from me and shakes her dirty curls out of her face to look up at me. That's when I see the scar. In all the tumult, I hadn't even noticed it, but it is the most prominent feature of her face, except maybe for her strikingly pale eyes.

_Eyes_. Tris's greyish eyes protruding my soul.

I shake my head, as if to shake off the image from my mind. The girl notices and her eyes narrow slightly. She tilts her head, questioningly. I ignore it.

"So, who are you to cause such a riot?" I ask, regaining my fierce composure.

She almost seems ashamed when I say the word 'riot', but sets her jaw firmly.

"Izzy," she mutters through her clenched teeth.

"Izzy what? No surname?" I ask. The smouldering behind her eyes fades.

"Not anymore." Her tone is suddenly colder. I snort.

"It would be hard to find any relatives that way, you know." I knew many had fled Chicago right after all what had happened and settled some place else. Some of them sent word to some relatives to come live with them. Her eyes slide down to the floor. Her voice is low as she speaks.

"If I still had any. After the war I don't need a surname anymore. I am the only one left."

A cold feeling spreads through my chest. My family lives, but is also dead. Tris is dead, the only family that I had ever needed. I feel a wave of grief build in my stomach, but I push it away and focus on the girl. She is still staring at the floor with unseeing eyes. Her dark-blond curls are dirty and her clothes are stained and torn. She looks like a factionless, but then again, every Chicago did upon arrival here. I clear my throat and she looks up, as if she forgot I was there at all.

"Well, you should pick a surname before we can register you. But for now – why did you attack that man?" I know why she had done it, but I have to ask. She also knows that I know, I can see it in her eyes.

"He hit her. There was another woman in line before them, who asked her a question. She answered, and he became angry with her. Then he slapped her. I couldn't take it, it was just so… so _unfair_." Her voice has grown louder with each word and her tone heated. She averts her eyes and takes a deep breath, as if to calm down. I wonder who had given her that scar. Was it her father as well? I can't ask. Instead, I lean forward and put my elbows on my knees.

"I understand why you did it, but such actions are not tolerated, nor likely to remain unpunished," I said. Her eyes widen in fear and the look in them suddenly reminds me of myself, as my father stood over me with his belt in his hand. I truly feel sorry for her.

"I – I'm sorry. I won't do it again," she says with a weak voice. I give her a faint smile.

"No worries. I'll enter your data into the system now, afterwards, well… I probably have to put you in a detention room for a few days, but it won't be bad. And you'll be able to take a shower."

Her cheeks flush and I immediately regret my words. Hanging out with Christina was beginning to show its effects.

"Right. Shall we?"

She nodded.

* * *

"Name?"

"Isabelle… uuhm…" I fall silent. I don't want to keep my old surname, reminding me of all those I had lost. I wanted a fresh start.

The tall guy leans back in his chair.

"You don't have to pick one yet, I'll go over the other questions first." His voice is a deep rumble and I can almost feel it reverberate in my chest.

"What's your name?" The questions slips out before I can stop myself, and I mentally chide myself. Shouldn't have said that, I had gotten myself in enough trouble as it was. Against all my expectations, one corner of his mouth curls and he turns to look at me. Dark blue eyes set deep under straight bushy eyebrows.

"Tobias. Pleased to meet you." Out of habit, I extend my hand towards him. He looks at it for a moment, then takes it and shakes it. His grip is firm and he releases my hand after two shakes. _Dauntless,_ a voice in the back of my head whispers.

"Hmm, Erudite or Dauntless then?" He grins and his serious expression lightens for a second. He's not as old as I thought.

"I'd say Erudite," he continues. "Although you did put up quite a fight out there."

I grimace. Usually fighting wasn't really my style, yet I had learned to defend myself after the accident. I always carried a knife with me, for protection. It certainly was a grim paradox; the girl who was cut was the one with a knife in her pocket.

"Erudite, or used to be. Never had my tests, so I wouldn't know for sure." I didn't like confessing I used to be Erudite, because of the war. Somehow, I felt the blame of that also clung to me – and still does.

"You don't look like one," Tobias remarks.

"I threw my old clothes away. I didn't want to be one of _them_." I almost spit out the last word, hardly hiding the aversion I harboured to my old faction. Tobias looks at me for a moment in an impenetrable way. It frustrates me that he is so hard to read. He turns again to the screen.

"Age?"

"Eighteen," I answer.

"Hometown?"

"Chicago."

More questions follow and I answer them automatically. I try not to think of the detention room I am going to in a few moments. Is it like a jail?

"Bloodtype?"

I stay silent.

"I – I can't remember," I stammer. I feel the blood rising to my face again. He looks at me questioningly.

"You don't know?" he asks with an incredulous tone, lifting one dark eyebrow.

I feel my heart beating in my ears. The world before me starts to blur and I try to swallow, but my throat feels like it is made of sandpaper. _Needles piercing through my skin, over and over again. Not in my neck, no, that would be too visible. Brightly lit rooms, people swarming around me in blue aprons, closing in on me with scalpels and other silver instruments, glinting in the artificial light._ _Their faces turn into grotesque masks and the numbing feeling inside me grows._

I squeeze my eyes closed and focus on my breathing. When I open them again, Tobias' face is closer. He is squatting down on front of me, studying me. Have I been gone long? I clear my throat.

"I'm sorry for that. I just – it's been a long journey, and I'm tired," I lie. His eyes hold mine intently and I stare back, not willing to concede. They are a peculiar shade of blue; so dark they're almost black. Eventually he stands up and sits back in his chair, turning to the screen.

"We'll put you through the medical screening as well then," he says. Icy cold fear envelops my heart, but I do my best to try and keep the emotion off my face. Tobias attention is on the computer anyway, and I force myself to assume a calm posture.

"That'll be it. You can decide on your surname later – enough time to meditate on that during your detention." He stands up and I follow his example. When he pulls a tie-rib out of his pocket to shackle me, I feel my body grow rigid again. He casts a cursory glance at me.

"Relax," he says quietly, turning me around and taking my wrists. His hands are much bigger than mine and he can easily hold both of them in one of his. "This is only for the walk to the detention centre, then I'll take them off again." I feel his breath on the back of my neck and I shiver slightly. He straps the tie-rib around my wrists and it sends a familiar shock through my body. The wounds on my wrists have healed every time, yet the stinging feeling is still there as the skin is touched.

He leads me towards the door and opens it, gesturing me to go first. I take a deep breath and step out.


	4. Something Different

_So, I found time to post another chapter. I was shocked when I found out the story has gained over a 100 views in just three days! Yay, you guys are awesome :D R&R please, I'd love to hear your opinions, the good, the bad & the ugly :)_

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4. Something different

When I return from dropping Izzy off at the detention centre, Christina comes up to me.

"What was all that?" she asks with a frown.

"Just an accident really," I answer. "The girl saw a man hit his wife, so she decided to punish him." I think for a moment. "Well, she didn't decide to, actually," I correct myself. "I think she just acted before thinking it through."

Christina's frown deepens.

"The Chicago's usually never cause this kind of trouble. They're mostly too confused and overwhelmed by all the new impressions that they just seem, well, _numbed_ really."

It's true, most of the Chicago's that came in just seemed scared and empty, as if they had lost track of the purpose of their lives. The girl, however, was different. She was scared; I had seen the fear in her eyes as she was holding the man down, but there was a fire burning in them I hadn't seen in a long time. I know the fire in me was gone; Christina only seemed to smolder at times, whereas she'd been a blazing force before. We had all grown colder by everything that had happened.

"She used to be an Erudite," I say, not knowing why. One of Christina's brows lifts up in surprise.

"Seriously? Never thought they were capable of defending the weak like that," she says weary, without being sarcastic.

A thought pops up in my head. She might be Divergent. I push it away. We are not in Chicago and the factions are gone anyway, so it doesn't matter what she is, or might have been. And besides, she could just as easily have been Dauntless or Abnegation, as she had never had her aptitude test.

"I'll file the incident-report first, then join you later to help out with the rest of the Chicago's," I say. Christina nods and we split up. As I walk to the Security Office, my thoughts wander of again, and Izzy's face appears in my mind. Eyes a pale shade of green, slightly angled and set in a narrow face. I hadn't even noticed the scarring when I first saw her, but it is her most striking feature. The ridge stood out, slightly darker colored than her skin, running sideways across her right-eye. I wondered what had happened to her. Marcus appears in my mind, holding the belt in his hand, looming over me. I tense. After the war, I did not have a hard time imagining such things occurring in Erudite as well.

I decide to visit Izzy tomorrow and have a word with her. God knows what would show up on the medical screening. I want to offer her a chance to get it off her mind before she will have to face that. I feel I owe it to her, as I know from experience what she may have been put through.

After I file the report, I do as I had promised Christina and join her to register the rest of the Chicago's. Small groups of grey-clad former Abnegation pass by, former Candors still dressed in their black and whites. Most wear mismatched combination from different factions. After a while, their faces start blending together. The work is simple and monotone, but I can get lost in it and I'm able to forget myself for a moment.

That night, I immediately fall asleep without needing to take the pills, exhausted by the long day. When I dream, the only thing I see is the glint of a knife, before it plunges into the darkness.

* * *

After Tobias had dropped me off at the detention centre, someone undid my straps and I was brought to a bathroom. It was wonderful to feel the hot water rain down my body again after all this time. I scrubbed myself from head to toe and put on the clothes they had given me. They then put me in a detention cell, which was essentially a small room containing a bed, a table and a chair. I couldn't have asked for more. I immediately flopped down in the bed and fell into a heavy sleep.

That had been yesterday, and right now I am wide-awake, lying on my back on the bed. The ceiling is a stark white, reminding me of the surgery room. I sit up and check if there are no guards near the door of my cell. I found out soon enough after my seclusion that the detention centre wasn't really a prison, but more like a time-out zone for first-time offenders like me, who had not done any big damage or committed serious crimes. A cool-off zone, really. Nevertheless, I shouldn't have let myself slip up the way I had, not if I wanted to blend in.

When I am sure no one is near, I lift the dark grey shirt I am wearing and inspect my stomach. The sides of my belly are covered in white puncture marks, like pigmentless freckles. I idly wonder if they will fade over time. I should know better by now, as it has looked like this since I was fifteen. As soon as they found out continually injecting my neck was eventually going to leave its marks, which might raise suspicion, they had moved to my stomach.

I hear a door open and instantly drop my shirt. I stand up from the bed and move to the centre of the room, standing still. Footsteps come closer, stopping at my door. It opens, and Tobias enters. I raise an eyebrow. I didn't expect to see him here. I look up at his tall frame standing in the door opening. I am not short at all, with my 5"8 I usually tower over most girls, yet I have to tilt my head upwards to look him in the eye. He is muscular, but his built is slender and he moves with a certain grace. A deadly grace, I remind myself as I think back at how he had overpowered me earlier in a heartbeat.

"Your medical screening will take place tomorrow," he announces, not wasting any time on niceties. I hope he doesn't notice my sharp inhale of breath. He leans against the doorframe.

"But I have a feeling you might want to tell me something before that happens."

I freeze. He couldn't know. How could he know? No, I was one of the best-hid secrets of the Erudite. Even with the war and everything going on, my records must have been destroyed so the experiments would never be uncovered.

"It might be easier for you to tell me now, as tomorrow we'll find out anyway, but you'll have to confess it to a larger group than just me."

My shoulders slump as the implications of his words weigh me down. I swallow, keeping my eyes on the ground. He moves to the table and sits on the edge, crossing his arms. Then I get it. He probably thinks I have something to hide because of the scar on my face. I almost snigger. The scar on my face was actually one the least important of the marks I carried.

I sit down on the bed and cross my arms, mimicking his movements.

"I do not have anything to tell you," I retort defiantly. He raises an eyebrow, seemingly unfazed by my hard words.

"I am offering you a chance here, you do understand that?"

Anger boils up in my chest.

"I don't need your help, okay? Just because I'm a _girl_ doesn't mean that I am pitiable and I need to be saved. I can take care of myself just fine, in a matter of fact, that's exactly what I've been doing for the past couple of months. I do not need help, especially not from _you_ of all people, the one who actually put me in here." The words pour out before I am even aware exactly what I am saying. I shut up and look at him, unsure what to expect. The expression on his face is still as composed as it was minutes ago, although I swear I can see his jaw tense slightly.

He shoots me one last sinister look before he pushes himself of the table and walks to the door.

"Fine, your choice."

His words still hang in the air long after he left.

Fear suddenly seizes me.

Had I made the right decision to come here?


	5. Revelations

_And another update! Next chapter may take a few days, as I'm currently very busy making the final corrections to my thesis, which is nerve-racking, to be honest. I've been knit-picking like a maniac for days now!_

_To add to my frustrations, I also had to post this chapter manually, as it refused to show up when I tried to upload it. Which is understandable, as Izzy is probably not very keen on sharing the next chapter..._

_And thank you, anonymous reviewer! There's more to come!_

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5. Revelations

As I walk away from Izzy's room I have a hard time trying to keep myself in check. As soon as I step out of the hallway of the detention centre, I slam my fist into the metal wall, releasing some of my anger.

What was I thinking? Her withdrawn yet fierce behavior had made me see Tris in her. I feel a twitch in my gut. She isn't some replacement for Tris. I can see now how she might have reminded me of her in some way, but no one can fill a gaping hole of such massive size. Tris has my heart and will always have it, as long as I am walking this earth. I could never love another that way. Tris had left a void I had learned to deal with over time, but I could never be healed. I shouldn't let myself grow attached to someone. It only means I can lose them again.

I stand in front of the wall with unseeing eyes, my chest heaving. I force my breathing to calm down. When I look at my hand, I see it's growing red and rapidly starts to swell. I decide I need to blow off some steam and head for the training rooms.

After blindly throwing myself at a punching ball for half an hour, someone touches my shoulder. I turn to see Zeke standing behind me, his trademark grin on his face.

"Training for the newbies?" he asks. Next week the new members of the Force would be chosen. I had been asked to tutor and train them, but I hadn't accepted yet. Honestly, I was afraid the training process would remind me of my time as a Dauntless instructor, when I had been Tris's teacher.

"Come on, it'll be fun," Zeke says. "It'll be totally different from the Initiation's training, you know that."

It was true, training for the Force was very different. It involved a lot more technical aspects and book learning, since in order to enforce the law, you also had to know what it said. Or rather, learn it by heart. Studying had never been my strongest point, but I had thrown myself into the process to try and forget myself.

With a sigh, I run a hand through my hair. I've kept it short all these years. Maybe it would be good to take on the job. At least it would provide another way to be useful and keep myself busy. The more work occupied my mind, the less time I had to ponder and get lost in my grief.

"All right, I accept."

Zeke's grin expands into a full-blown smile and he slaps me on the back.

"Great, it'll be awesome to be working together again!" He probably sees the shadow falling over my face, because he quickly adds: "Not like old times, but I've just missed working with you. We used to be a great team, remember?"

I do, and can't suppress a smile when I think back.

"We were. But I don't want to teach Physical Training all the time. I'm considering teaching ICT and Surveillance."

Zeke frowns and lets out an unconvinced snort.

"That seems boring. Can't you at least work with me on some of the Physical classes? Not just for fun, but for the sake of providing 'enriching techniques' or something as a guest teacher? Come on, I know you'll like it," he pushes on.

I consider his proposal for a moment, then nod, yielding to his words.

"Great! I'll tell Zayne, he'll be pumped!"

Zeke runs off and I sit down on a bench, wiping the sweat of my neck and forehead with a towel. It'll be good for me, I tell myself, and somehow, somewhere, I can feel a spark of excitement shoot up in my chest. After a moment, I stand up and start punching the bag again, with renewed vigor. If I'd be training newbies, I had to make sure my body was in perfect shape.

* * *

I pace through the room as the hour of my medical screening draws near, which isn't easy in a space the size of a postage stamp. I mull over what is about to happen. Will I be exposed? Will they find out what I am, label me as a freak of nature and 'dispose' of me? I have never exactly known what they've pumped into my body, but knowing the serums Erudite has invented, it couldn't have been innocent, or safe for that matter.

I hear the door of the hallway open and the thudding of boots on the floor, stopping at my door. I take deep breath and steel myself.

The door opens and Tobias walks in with a detached look in his face. His stance is uninterested as he leans against the wall. He takes a tie-rib out of his back pocket and twirls it around between his long fingers.

"I have to chain you as you'll be guided to your screening. The straps will be removed once you're there." He does not look at me when he speaks, his eyes focused on the tie-rib.

I swallow audibly and nod in understanding. I shouldn't have fallen out against him the way I had, taking out my frustrations on the one person who was trying to help me.

"You're still sure you've said all you want to say?" His eyes are still trained on the straps, but his tone has softened a bit.

My breathing quickens and I cast my eyes downward, unable to face him. I have to say something, I have tell him what's on my mind. But instead, I choke up and silence fills the room.

"Fine. Let's go then." His words turn cold again and he pushes away from the wall, taking my wrists to tie them.

"Stop."

Tobias freezes behind me. Then, to my surprise, he lets go of my hands. I take a deep breath. It's now or never.

"Sit down. I'll show you," I say quietly. Without a word, Tobias sits down on the chair, his hands on his knees and his eyes on my face, waiting.

I turn my right side towards him, trying hard to keep my hands from shaking as I lift the hem of my shirt. I hear a sharp intake of breath, but other than that he remains silent.

"I am a human experiment," I say with a strange steady voice that doesn't seem to belong to me. "They took me off the streets, a child of the factionless. They probably paid my parents or whoever it was taking care of me by giving them food or something and placed me in an Erudite-family. My foster family. They never treated me as their child, as I was just a factionless stray. I remember that they took me to my first test when I was about eight years old."

I can still smell the sterile scent lingering in the air of the hallways, the needle plunging into my neck, the world swirling around me as I lost consciousness. I still avoid Tobias's eyes, but I can feel his gaze is set on the dapple of scars.

"When I was older, I guess about twelve, my neck was bruised so badly from the constant injections that they moved to a more discrete place to inject me. I do not know what they did to me, but I know they drew blood and injected me with chemicals."

There, it's out. I've never told my story to anyone, and I feel incredibly exposed and bare as I wait for a response. I close my eyes in nervous anticipation, ashamed of what I am.

My breath falters as Tobias's fingers touch my stomach, gently wheeling me around so my left side is facing him. It looks just as bad as the right side, with some purple blotches where the veins are still close under the surface of my skin. I can feel his eyes studying me as he tilts his head to the side.

His fingers slide over the marks, leaving a burning sensation as he traces them across my sides. I can only look back at him embarrassed as he draws his eyes up to meet mine again. To my surprise, his eyes are dark and filled with rage. A twinge of fear sets in my stomach and I suddenly feel trapped between his hands. I stumble backwards, his hands abruptly falling to his sides and the enraged look on his face abruptly disappearing.

"I- I am afraid of what will show up on the test. Of what the chemicals have done with me," I say softly, my voice no more than a whisper.

Tobias frowns and pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

"I have no idea, although knowing Erudite, anything could come out of those tests." His answer is almost brutally honest, but somehow I feel it isn't his intention to hurt me.

I remain silent, not knowing what to say next. What would his next step be? Remove me from the city, lock me up for good, or… _eliminate_ me? The tiny bit of hope I still had left suddenly evaporates and I sink down on the bed, my shoulders sagging in defeat.

I don't know how long we sit there in silence, my mind growing numb as I try to accept the inevitable, when a hand lightly touches my shoulder. I open my eyes, not realizing I had closed them again, and look up to see Tobias kneeling before me, determination marking his features.

"I am going to find out what they did to you. And I won't let anybody find out, okay?"

I gingerly search his face, looking for the faintest sign of dishonesty, but I could feel that he had spoken the truth even before I could see it on his face. I nod softly.

"Thank you," I murmur. He gives me the tiniest of smile, with one corner of his mouth drawing up, yet it makes me feel better. As he straightens, he helps me up as well.

"Now, let's go to the screening."

* * *

_Cliffhanger! Yes, I'm evil and I know it ^^ R&R and virtual Dauntless Cake for everyone!._


	6. Testing Day

_So I've had two of my wisdom teeth removed this morning. I'm waiting for the anesthesia to wear off and the pain to kick in, but fortunately, so far I feel way better than I'd anticipated!_

_Ryebread15: Thanks so much for the review! I won't keep you waiting, here's the next chapter!_

* * *

6. Testing Day

It's as if my shoes are filled with lead as we walk towards the medical unit. Even though Tobias has promised me that he'd help find out what had happened to me, I was still fearful of the test itself. Were they going to prod and poke me with needles? The thought makes the hairs on my neck stand up and I gulp involuntarily at the thought of needles.

Tobias casts a sideways glance at me, and I try to regain my composure. He was going to help me; everything would work out fine. Although I keep telling myself this, the churning feeling in my stomach refuses to leave. The fact is, he hadn't really told me exactly _how_ he would help me. There would be more people performing the test, and I had no clue how he would work around them. A thought suddenly pops op in my head: _what if he would kill them?_ I immediately banish it from my mind. Of course not, that was ridiculous. He wouldn't kill off his colleagues for some random girl. On the other hand, it wasn't that I couldn't imagine him murdering people. The dangerous glint in his eyes makes me apprehensive of him. He might have offered me his help, but I am not about to trust him yet. I don't think I'm about to trust anyone anyway, not after what my fellow humans had put me through. I had no reason to trust them back there in Chicago; I have no reason to trust anyone here now in New Orleans.

Tobias leads me down a hallway and stops at a door. He pushes it open and ushers me in. In the white room are a chair and a CT-scanner, three people standing beside them. They remind me of the doctors at Eurdite and I grow uneasy under their stares. The only woman of the company, a middle-aged woman with auburn hair put up in a knot steps forward. She smiles at me gently.

"Hi Isabelle, I'm Irene. To complete your immigration we just have to enter your medical data into the system. Just regular procedure; it won't take long. If you could just have a seat in the chair please?" Her voice is kind and soothing, and a bit of my tension dissolves – just the tiniest fraction.

My heart pounds loudly as I sit down in the chair. Irene takes out a needle and my breath catches in my throat. _Act normal_, I scold myself mentally and force my lungs to suck in air and push it out again.

"First, we'll draw some blood to determine your blood type and to rule out any diseases." She disinfects the inside of my elbow with a wipe and I see the needle moving towards my arm. I can't look, so instead I turn my head. Tobias is standing at the side, his eyes trained on Irene's hands. I study his strong jaw, his short, dark hair and the way he holds himself; slightly hunched over, as if he is uncomfortable with his own height. He's not flawless: the point of his nose points downwards and his ears stand out a bit. But all of this features fade to the background by his eyes. They are deep blue color as sapphires, changing along with his temper.

I am so engaged in studying him that I hardly feel the needle puncture my skin. It takes me half a minute to realize that he isn't looking at Irene anymore but staring back at me. I quickly turn my head and am greeted by the sight of ruby red blood creeping through the tube. I feel the color drain from my face and squeeze my eyes shut.

"All done," Irene says as I feel the syringe pull out of my skin. I open my eyes and let go of a breath I hadn't realized I had been holding in. Irene hands over the tubes to one of her colleagues, who disappears with them through the door.

"Now we'll put you through the CT-scanner, and you're done."

It takes less than half an hour before they finish the tests. Irene tells me they'll have the results of the blood test and the scan back in a day and I could be cleared the day after that.

As Tobias walks me back to my cell I ask him the question that had been bothering me for the past hour.

"How exactly are you going to get the test-results before they reach the doctors?"

A group of Force-officers passes and we both keep silent. Once they are out of earshot, he answers: "I never told you what my function within the Force is. I primarily work at ICT, so I will be able to intercept the results and make any necessary alterations."

Relief floods through me, and I feel a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth for the first time in weeks. I fight the urge to throw my arms around Tobias in gratitude, figuring it would make quite a scene, a temporary inmate hugging her guard. Besides, I still don't feel completely at ease while being in his company. He always seems on his guard, his eyes scanning his surroundings, alert and distrusting.

As we round another corner, I sweep a glance across the hallway, checking the exits. I catch myself halfway down the hall as a thought pops op in my mind: I do exactly the same. Years of confinement had made me develop the habit, as I had sworn I would never let myself be oppressed like that again. I wasn't allowed to leave the house, ever, except for school. They were afraid someone would find out about me, so seclusion was the best option.

I cast a sideways glance at Tobias. What had happened to him? I wonder. He turns his head and catches me looking at him. I quickly avert my eyes and stare at the ground, the grey tiles passing underneath my feet. I'm wearing white canvas sneakers they had given me. They feel strangely light on my feet. I can't wait till I can wear my combat boots again. I can't even properly kick someone even if I'd wanted to with these things on. Not that I plan on kicking anybody, but just in case.

We arrive at my room and Tobias leads me in. When the door is shut, he unties my straps. I involuntarily rub my wrists.

"If they were too tight, you should have said so. They're not meant as punishment." His concern surprises me and I quickly shake my head.

"No, no – they were fine. It's just… nothing." I swallow. He can probably see right through my words, but decides not to press the matter any further.

"I will let you know about the lab-results tomorrow," he says and I nod. He turns his back to me and heads for the door. The realization that I'm finally safe starts to dawn on me. I feel a wave of gratefulness surge within me and my heart feels light, as if tightly wound chains around it are suddenly dropped, freeing my chest. All because of him.

Unable to stop myself, I sprint towards Tobias. Before he can turn the handle, I throw my arms around his back. He freezes.

"Thank you," I mumble into the fabric of his shirt, my cheek pressed against his warm back. I can feel the tension in his body fade slowly and for a moment, we just stand there, my arms clasped around his shoulders.

After a few seconds I release him from my embrace and awkwardly step back. Embarrassed by my rash move, I feel the blood rise to my cheeks.

"You're welcome," he says without letting go of the handle, his voice soft and low. He slips out of the room and I let myself fall back on the bed, wrapping my arms around myself.

I will be fine, I tell myself. Everything will be fine; Tobias will take care of it. I realize I have to trust him, and also that after all of this is over, I probably owe him. I frown. I had to figure out a way to even that debt, as I did not want to be tied to anyone who could possibly call on me to repay the favor when I tried to make a fresh start. My mind remains occupied with that subject until I doze off in what had to be the most tranquil sleep I'd had in months.

* * *

When I walk to the streetcar at the end of the day, the feeling of Izzy's slender arms around me still lingers. The skin on my back still tingles from the touch, where she had pressed her head between my shoulder blades. It had been such a long time since someone has touched me like that. It feels strange and unfamiliar, but it also makes the cold night-air a bit less chilly.

After hours of thinking, running and punching things I had accepted that Izzy wasn't remotely like Tris and I had to stop thinking about her that way. The cold and scathing reaction she had given me when I had offered her my help had brutally forced me to acknowledge that. Tris wouldn't have shot someone down like that. Izzy was poignant and calculated, like ice, whereas Tris had been fierce and at times hot-blooded, burning like Dauntless fire. They were complete opposites.

I had just about come around and accepted this fact, when she had completely overtaken me by showing me her abuse. I had been forced to revise all the things I had told myself about her. Thinking about the scars on her sides makes my stomach quench again. No one should be put through such torture, being used as a human guinea pig. My aversion to Erudite, which had always been strong, had now reached an unprecedented high level, making my blood boil just thinking about what they had done to Izzy. The white spots covering her sides from where they had pierced her skin repeatedly dance before my eyes.

A dark uneasy feeling grows in my chest as I think about the medical screening. In my mind, I had developed a theory that the serums Erudite had invented could have been the substances Izzy had been injected with. They would have had to test them on someone, and obviously they wouldn't have used a fellow Erudite for that. The factionless had provided the perfect solution. I couldn't imagine what Izzy had been through. Marcus's abuse had been horrible, but to be sold off by your family and treated like a testing rat your whole life… I feel compassion well up as I picture Izzy's mangled countenance in my head. She needed all the help she could get.

The streetcar rounds the corner and I hop in. Inside it's almost empty. I sit down in the back and stare out of the window, the lights of the city outlining the shapes of the dark buildings. Beyond them, I can make out the glimmer of the sea as the moonlight reflects on its dark surface. I haven't visited the coast yet. I had wanted to when I first arrived here, I had even jumped on the streetcar and rode towards the coast. But when arrived there, I couldn't bring myself to get out. Even from a distance, the sound the waves breaking against the shore and the foam floating on the grey-blue surface had been a beautiful sight. But the color reminded me of her eyes, and the only thing I could think about was how much Tris would have loved to see the sea. So I just sat there, frozen, until the streetcar rounded a corner and the ocean disappeared from view. I had stayed on the car till the end of the line, where I got out and started wandering aimlessly through the city. At three in the morning, I finally arrived at my door again.

The bell of the streetcar startles me out of my thoughts and I look up just in time to see we're approaching my street. I jump off and jog to my condo.

About half an hour later, lying in my bed, I decide to make a pledge to myself. I will take care of Izzy. I know what it is like to be mistreated and what it does to you trust in humanity. I will help her restore her faith in people again. I will guide her through this ravel called society until she has found her place. I will protect her like the sister I never had.

With those thoughts filling my head, fatigue overtakes me and I fall into a heavy and dreamless sleep.


	7. New Beginnings

_Hello everyone! New chapter yay :) Also, I posted chapter 6 and got more than a 100 views within a day, that's awesome! However, I didn't get a single review, so could you please R&R? I would really love to know what you think of the story so far, if you have any suggestions or want me to keep going or not._

_Anyway, I'm almost done with school, so I'll probably be uploading more often!_

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7. New Beginnings

When I wake up the next day, my stomach twists like I'm about to throw up. I can barely eat, my throat strung tightly by nerves. I have no idea when Tobias will come in with the test results, so I have to find a way to keep myself busy till then. Spending my days sitting still, I am currently so full of energy that I feel like I'm on the verge of exploding. I restlessly start pacing up and down the confined space of my room. By midday, I'm surprised I haven't yet run a dent in the floor. With a sigh of frustration, I sit down in the chair. What if he wasn't coming? What if he got caught? What if had been all a lie, to make me confess my secrets? Staring down at my fiddling fingers, I force myself to calm down. Don't be ridiculous, I tell myself sternly. He wouldn't do that; he didn't have any reason to do so. I need distraction.

My hands twitch and I wish I had something to occupy myself with. Although I had been raised as an Erudite, serious reading had never been of much interest to me. I read what I had to read for school, but I had rather been running around outside, in the Amity fields or through the city streets. But going outside had never been an option for me.

My head snaps up when I hear footsteps echoing through the hallway. Please let it be Tobias, I pray silently. I wait as the sound comes closer until it stops at my door. I stand up, unable to contain my nerves much longer. The door sways open and to my relief, Tobias steps inside. He's wearing a grey shirt today, a deviation from his usual black attire. I look at him expectantly.

He closes the door behind him and I notice the folder in his hand.

"Are those the results?" I ask nervously. He nods and gestures at the bed.

"Have a seat." He takes out the chair and sits down on the edge. I had observed the past couple of days that he hardly ever properly sat back in a chair, but always leaned on the edge, as if he was ready to spring into action.

I sit down and fold my hands together to keep them still. Tobias opens the file.

"You're cleared. Nothing too abnormal came up on the test."

I stare at him dumbfounded as I replay the words in my head. Cleared. I am cleared. Then the rest of his words hit me.

"Hold on, nothing _too _abnormal?" I ask. He doesn't look at me as he leafs through the folder.

"There were some… oddities, but nothing particularly out of the ordinary. You seem to have had quite a number of dislocations and fractures in the past."

He casts a questioning look at me, but I refuse to return his gaze. The rare moments I had found some courage to stand up against my treatments had often resulted in forced cooperation. In one of my most rebellious outbursts five nurses had been needed to keep me down, one of them twisting my arm and another breaking my left wrist in the process. There's still a small lump on the side of my wrist where the fracture had been.

"That's all?" I ask hopefully.

"There's also a high amount of a certain type of white leukocytes. It means your body is very adept at fighting off pathogens that may cause infections. In layman's terms: you're almost never ill."

I frown. As a raised Erudite, I knew what it meant. However, I hadn't it expected it. After all the testing, I'd figured my constitution would be weak.

"The nature of the leukocytes suggests this is innate, so you're born with a high degree of immunity to disease," Tobias continues. So my genes aren't screwed up, as I thought, but actually exceptionally strong. I suppress a cynical snort. At least my biological parents had left me something positive. A theory begins to develop in my head.

"Is that the reason I survived the testing?" I tentatively inquire, looking at Tobias. A furrow appears between his thick eyebrows as he ponders my question.

"That's highly probable, but as we have no idea what the contents of the injections were, there's no way of telling." I wish I know what the glowing liquids had been that appeared in my dreams over and over, as I was lying on the surgery table again.

"For now, consider yourself lucky for passing the test after all that your body has been through. Your release will be tomorrow, after the final paperwork is done," he says. Blinking in shock, I stare at him, suddenly at a loss for words.

"My release is… tomorrow?" I stutter. I had been so blindsided by the medical screening that my release had completely slipped from my mind.

He grins, a warm and deep rumbling sound that rises from his chest, and his dark eyes light up momentarily.

"Yes. You'll have to pick a surname as well, so I do hope you have given it some thought."

I can hardly contain my excitement at the thought of finally being free, knowing my body is clean and I'm normal, my insides functioning like those of any other.

"And by the way, you're A negative." I grin as Tobias leaves the room. My blood type. I lie back down on the bed and close my eyes, still smiling. It's time to start over. It's time to pick a new name.

* * *

That morning, Izzy's testing results had come in. An edge of anxiety tugged at my stomach as I opened them. Quickly scanning through the files, I was relieved to find out her health was fine. The signs of multiple fractures were out of the ordinary, but hadn't really come as a surprise to me. The high amount of leukocytes was interesting, but no reason for alarm either.

I leaned back in my chair and ran a hand over my face, releasing a sigh. I hadn't even realized I'd been holding my breath up until then. A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth as I got up and headed for her room, the file in my hand.

It's lunchtime now, and the cafeteria is filled with people from all departments, flooding in from every corner of The Force. The sound of chatter and laughter buzzes through the air, which is heavy with the scents of warm food.

"Hey man!"

I look up at Zeke, who sets down his tray on the table and plumps down next to me.

"Hey," I greet him and watch as he starts to dive into his food. I raise an eyebrow.

"You hungry?" I ask him as he stuffs what must be half a chicken down his throat.

He nods, not even bothering to use his mouth for anything else than eating. He grabs his soda and takes a gulp. He then moves on to his next course, biting into a huge burger. After half a minute, he finally manages to talk in between bites.

"I talked to Zayne yesterday, and he agreed to us teaching some classes together." I could see his half-grinded food rotate around his mouth as he spoke. Zeke was a true Dauntless. It was useless to try and teach him any manners, as he was convinced that knowing the correct way to hold a fork had never prevented any wars. He was right to some extent and we had long come to accept his opinion – though the consequences included the culinary spectacle that was going on before my eyes.

Christina approaches us, holding a tray of food as well, and she sits down in the chair across from us.

"Hi guys," she says. I greet her back and Zeke gives her a nod, engrossed in devouring his hamburger. A look of disgust crosses Christina's face as she watches him down his food. As a former Candor, propriety had practically been beaten into her, and her aversion to Zeke's manners still showed sometimes.

"For the love of God, Zeke!" She exclaims, staring at him incredulously.

"What?!" Zeke exclaims as looks up from his hamburger, red sauce exploded all over his face. I can't help but snigger. Christina merely shakes her head in desperation and throws the pile of napkins on her tray at him.

"You are aware of the fact that you're putting more food on your face than in your mouth, right?" Zeke makes a face and takes one of the napkins, wiping it across his face indifferently. He digs into his burger again, ignoring Christina's disapproving stares.

"So Tobias, I heard you're up for training as well? I'm so glad you decided to participate, you have so much to teach those kids." She smiles at me and I know she's not trying to lift my spirits by saying so, but that she's genuinely happy that I took on the job.

Zeke speaks up with a mouth currently stuffed with French fries.

"Yeah, bwut he's no gonna do musj fighinh, jus boring compuha stuffs." Christina rolls her eyes at him but he doesn't notice. Instead of chiding him, she processes his words and looks at me questioningly.

"Is that true?"

"Yes, I'll primarily be teaching ICT and Surveillance, but I will assist Zeke every now and then in some combat-classes," I confess. Christina stays silent and takes a bite out of her sandwich, chewing on it thoughtfully.

"I understand," she says slowly, her eyes averting mine as she picks at her food. I know Tris is on her mind as well. Her ghost not only followed me; Christina had suffered a lot from her death too. We both fell into in black hole after she was gone. It had originally been her plan to move to New Orleans. Christina stares absentmindedly at Zeke, who had wanted to leave Chicago as well. His reason for leaving had been different. He hadn't wanted to build a life with Shauna in a city that felt so… broken. My appetite vanishes as the memories resurface. I force a mouthful of rice down my throat after chewing it mechanically for a few minutes.

The silence grows around us as we sit there, our minds preoccupied with our own problems. Zeke clears his throat after he has eaten the last of his fries, reclining into his chair.

"That was good." He rubs his belly to underscore his words and a burp escapes from his mouth. Christina sighs exasperated, shaking her head, but then chuckles softly. I smile as well. We had pulled through after all this time, after all that had happened.

"How's Shauna by the way?" I ask. Shauna mostly spends her days working from home for a security company, but Zeke knows that's not what I'm referring to. Ever since they got here, they've been trying to get a baby. But since Shauna is paralyzed from the waist down, they aren't able to conceive the natural way. They had recently visited the hospital to undergo medical research, to find out about the options and chances.

Zeke shrugs and leans forward, planting his elbows on the table and resting his chin on his palm.

"They're still running tests. The doctors say they don't know whether her body is be able to carry a baby until it is fully grown, fearing her muscles can't cope and she'll have a miscarriage again." He keeps his face and tone neutral, but a shadow falls over his face. I feel sorry for him. If ever a couple deserved their share of happiness, it had to be them. I know Zeke does everything for Shauna. In the first months after she was paralyzed, he had done everything in his power to help her rehabilitate. He carried her everywhere, washed her, fed her and even brought her to the bathroom. She told me he had been the reason she kept on going.

I remembered the glowing look on their faces as they announced to me that they were going to have a baby. I had never seen them happier. It was the first time the light had returned to Zeke's eyes after the death of Uriah. When he had found Shauna a month later bleeding on the kitchen floor, that light had faded again. That had been the reason they came along to New Orleans. Shauna refused to undergo medical testing and examinations at the hands of the Erudite.

"We're all keeping our fingers crossed for you guys, Zeke. If we can help, we're there for you," Christina says and she gives him a small smile. I pat him on the back, once, and he nods.

"Thank you guys, we appreciate your support," he says, fiddling with the napkins on his tray.

"Anyway, the selections are scheduled for tomorrow. Are you gonna watch?" Christina asks, and I'm thankful for the change of the topic. I shrug and look at Zeke.

"Yeah, why not. Seems like good fun," Zeke replies and we agree to meet each other at the training grounds. Zeke will bring Shauna along, as she's been dying to get out of the house lately. An image flashes through my mind, of Tris sitting in a wheelchair as I push her through the hallways of the Force. I quickly brush the picture off my mind. She would have hated living like that. Not that Shauna likes it, but Tris would have gone insane, I'm sure.

We stand up from the table and empty our trays at the bins, before we split ways, each of us heading for a different department. Zeke is primarily in charge of the recruits one half of the year and the other half he works at the Combat department, developing and teaching new combat techniques and introducing and explaining the use of new weapons. Christina has a high function at the Crime department, tracking down and arresting criminals. Then there's me, the ICT-guy. I basically keep the network of The Force running, fix internal problems and make sure the surveillance cameras are in working order. I had refused jobs at both Crime and Security, wanting to avoid confrontation as much as possible.

My job at The Force might be boring, but it provides me with a cause, a distraction and a degree of certainty. Suddenly, an idea pops into my head. I smile inadvertently. I know someone who could use all of those things.


	8. Selections

_Hi everyone, I'm sorry it took me so long to update! I promise I'll put up another chapter before the end of this week to make up for it. I've just been so swamped with work, the usual stuff really, that I actually had a chapter ready but couldn't find the time to put it through a final check. That's what you get without a beta -_-'_

_Ryebread15: You'll find out in this chapter! I know it's not the most original name, but I though it worked :)_

* * *

8. Selections

I wake up early on the day of my release, unable to contain my excitement. From the small high window, I can see the sky slowly changing color, the glowing orange creeping over the darkness, than finally being reduced until the sky is a bright blue. I can't wait to get out of this room and be out in the open again. Since I had run away from Chicago, life had been hard, but I treasured it as I had never been outside for such a long time.

Almost two hours after breakfast, the familiar echo of footsteps clinks through the hallway. The door opens and Tobias enters. He seems lighter today, the blue in his eyes more closely resembling the color of the sky.

I hold out my wrists, waiting for him to cuff me with the tie-rib, as he'd done the last couple of times.

He chuckles.

"You're free, remember," he says and blinking, I drop my arms to my sides. He's right, I am free.

"So, where are you going now?" he asks, his face neutral.

I shrug. I actually don't have a clue yet.

"Don't quite know yet. A place with a shower, preferably," I answer dryly.

"You know, you could enroll in the Force. Try-out in the selections. I've seen what you're capable of; you'd make a great recruit. Classes are starting soon and we are still looking for possible recruits. You can always apply and see what happens." I shoot him an unconvinced look, which he returns without flinching.

"They've got showers," he adds, imitating my dry response earlier. I snort and cross my arms.

"If that's your main argument, then I'm terribly sorry, but I'll have to decline. I'm not really the fighting type, if you hadn't figured that out yet," I scowl at him sarcastically. Tobias raises one eyebrow at me, but stays silent. I bite my tongue and I immediately regret my words. Fiddling with the strands of my shirt, I remember what he has done for me the past couple of days. I realize that I can't afford to be in his debt.

I let out a sigh.

"Okay," I say. He stares at me in silence.

"Okay what?"

"Okay as in: yes, I will apply. But only because you ask me to. I'm not exactly a physical person; I normally only use violence as a last resort. I probably won't make it through the selections anyway." He snorts unconvinced, but the corner of his mouth curls upwards.

"Great, in that case, follow me." He turns around and walks out of the room. I remain standing in the room, but after my initial surprise, I stumble after him, trying to keep up with his large strides.

"Where are we going?" I ask uncertainly, but I have a hint at what might be happening.

"I'm taking you to the selections," he replies casually, not looking at me. A smile plays around his lips. Irritation prickles through me, but I suppress my anger. This is not the time to get mad.

"What? You couldn't have told me the selections were today?" I grit through my teeth, trying to keep my voice down.

"Well, if I told you, would you have agreed?" A vicious retort lies on the tip of my tongue, but with great self-control I swallow it. He's right.

"Probably not," I grumble, trying not to sound defeated. I stare at my feet and promptly halt as I look at my shoes. I can't fight dressed like this.

"What's wrong?" I look up at Tobias, who's standing a few feet away from me, as he probably hadn't noticed that I'd stopped right away.

"My shoes, my clothing: they're hardly suitable for fighting, don't you think?" I reply. He nods.

"Yes, that's why you get the opportunity to change first." I let out a sigh of relief. Fighting in these flimsy shoes would be a great disadvantage.

"Come on," Tobias calls to me over his shoulder as he starts walking again. I follow him until we arrive at what seems like a locker-room. In the corner is a small changing-cabin. Tobias opens one of the lockers by pressing his thumb to the digital lock. It clicks open and he takes out a stack of clothes. My old clothes. He hands them over to me, cleanly washed but still threadbare and torn. I slip into the changing cabin and put them on, avoiding my reflection in the mirror. As I put on my heavy black boots, I remember something. Stepping out of the cabin, Tobias' eyes slide over my figure. He must think I look ridiculous in my ruffled dress and worn boots.

I extend my open palm towards him.

"My knife?" I demand.

He looks at me for a moment, unfathomable depths in his dark blue eyes. Then his hand reaches into his back pocket and he takes out my knife. He extends the knife to me, hilt first. I take it and slip it in one of my boots. The feeling of the metal, slightly warmed by his touch, feels reassuringly familiar against my skin.

I smile at him, content to be back in my own clothes.

"Let's go."

* * *

Walking to the training grounds, Izzy remains quiet. I don't disturb the silence, because I understand she's probably mentally preparing herself for the selections. I hope she gets through: it wouldn't just provide a place for her to stay, but I start to think she would make a good addition to The Force. She's smart: the way her eyes study her surroundings and the people around her is a clear sign of her vigilance. She can read people's faces and see through them in an extraordinary way. And she isn't afraid of fighting either, however vehemently she tried to deny it.

We round a corner and cross the main hall, which is busier than usual. People flock in from everywhere: not only to enter the selections, but also to watch them. It's easy to pick out the ones who are here for the selections: the nervousness shows on their faces and in their demeanor.

I cast a sidelong glance at Izzy. Her eyes are unreadable and her face is hard, as if she has put on a mask in the last few minutes. The only thing giving away her tension is her mouth, which is set just slightly tighter than normally.

I nudge her lightly and her eyes immediately dart to me, an edge of uncertainty framing the emerald-green.

"Don't worry, you'll be fine," I say and smile, trying to reassure her. She smiles half-heartedly in return and nods.

We make our way through the crowd, heading for the training grounds, Izzy a step behind me. I raise my hand and smile as I see Christina, Zeke and Shauna waiting before the double doors. People are filing into the large hall, nervous murmurs alternating with relaxed shouts and laughter.

I smack Zeke on the back and hug Christina and Shauna, leaning down to reach the latter.

"How've you been?" she asks me, her face softened by a gentle smile. Her wish to become a mother has made her warmer and more caring in some ways, as if by trying it on us she's preparing for motherhood. I swallow as the thought forces itself on me that she actually already is a mother.

"Fine, fine. I'd ask you how you're doing, but Zeke kinda explained the situation…" The smile leaves her eyes but she keeps it on her face.

"No problem. We're just trying to make the best of it and keep hoping. Giving up is not an option." I nod, admiring her determined attitude.

"Who's that?" she asks, glancing curiously behind me. Izzy has stayed a few feet behind me as I'd greeted the group, observing us silently with big eyes. I put a hand on her back and draw her forward.

"This is Isabelle. She's here to audition as well. She arrived from Chicago only a few days ago and she's on her own, so I showed her the way." It wasn't exactly a lie, but it wasn't the complete truth either. They all greet her, one by one. Zeke steps forward and shakes her hand in his usual jovial way. Shauna smiles at her friendly as she introduces herself. Christina also shakes her hand and introduces herself, but as she looks Izzy in the eye, I can see her narrow her eyes, as if she tries to recognize her from somewhere. Fortunately, she stays silent, studying Izzy from head to toe, as if she's racking her brain to remember where she has seen her before.

"So did you come all the way from Chicago on your own?" Shauna asks, her tone filled with a mix of concern and curiosity. Izzy nods uncertainly, still attempting to get a grip on the situation and these unfamiliar people.

"Wow, that takes some serious guts, kid," Zeke says as he raises his eyebrows in overt surprise. Christina just continues to stare at Izzy

Izzy in turn eyes the ground as she shrugs.

"I never really had a family, so leaving Chicago wasn't that hard." She brushes her fingers along her forehead, as if to brush away stray strands of hair, but I notice she actually inconspicuously touches the edge of the scar.

"Which faction did you say you came from?" Christina asks seemingly innocent, but the sharp look in her eyes betrays her true intentions.

Izzy stares at her wide-eyed, and opens her mouth to answer.

The sound of a buzzer rings through the halls, followed by a voice announcing that the selections will start shortly. Saved by the bell. Izzy's shoulders tense slightly and I lightly touch her forearm. She eyes me with a baleful grimace.

"Don't stress, you'll do fine. The selections aren't just physical, your intelligence and resourcefulness will be considered as well." She nods and I feel the muscles unclench beneath my fingers. I give her a reassuring smile and she manages to return it.

"Let's go!" Zeke calls excitedly as he pushes Shauna forward, and we head through the doors.

* * *

I drag myself after the group, feeling like I'm leaving an ounce of confidence behind with every step. We enter a huge hall, big enough to hold about 400 people. The sides are lined with benches, as in a stadium, each row placed a few feet higher than the preceding one, so everyone has a good view. In the middle there's a round pit with a black floor, covered by a huge glass sphere. Inside, it's completely empty.

I frown, unsure what to expect. Are they gonna throw us in there and have us fight until only one of us remains standing?

I walk along with the group until we're at the edge of the glass globe. Tobias turns to me.

"This is where we leave you. Over there are the other contestants waiting," he says, pointing over to a few benches placed before the glass at one side. Some people are already sitting and standing over there, practicing fighting moves, pacing around nervously or just sitting silently on the benches, in thought.

"Good luck." Tobias gives me a small hug, which I awkwardly return. Glancing over his shoulder, I see Christina looking at me, that strange frown on her face as she studies me. Her eyes slide over my scar and linger at it for a moment, and I see a glint of recognition in them. She probably witnessed the fight, I suddenly realize.

Tobias draws back and before I have a chance to tell him about it, they're off to the bleachers. I sigh and turn back again, heading for the other future trainees. I sit down on one of the empty benches and avoid the looks the others give me when they notice my scar. I have gotten used to it, but that doesn't mean I'm not ashamed of it. The scar has left me feeling marked.

The bench bends further as someone sits down next to me. I see a hand appear in front of my downwards-tilted face. Looking up, I'm rewarded with the sight of a tanned, slightly boyish face. He has tousled brown locks, hazel-brown eyes and a broad smile. Freckles are scattered across his nose and cheeks.

"Allow me to introduce myself," he says cheerfully. He looks me straight in the eye instead of staring at my scar.

I take his extended hand and he shakes it firmly.

"Snyder. Snyder Farlowe."

"Isabelle," I reply. He keeps looking at me and after a moment, a frown appears on his good-humored face.

"What, no surname?" He grins and I can't suppress a chuckle myself. It is ridiculous not to have a surname. I bite my lip in hesitation as I look at Snyder's open and cheerful face. I'm actually doing this. I'm out of Chicago and on my way of finding out who I really am. A combination of freedom and self-confidence spreads through my chest and I feel light and happy. I think back at the changing colors of the sky this morning and finally make my decision.

"Isabelle. Isabelle Dawn. But you can call me Izzy."


	9. Into Simulation

_As promised, another update before the end of the week! Thanks for the reviews, they motivate me to write more :) And Amber-Marie Black, I do plan on bringing Tobias and Izzy together, but I personally don't like throwing Izzy at him within three chapters. It wouldn't really by Tobias-style to take off with a girl like that, so hang in there, there's more to come!_

_The next couple of chapters are written from Izzy's POV, as it's most logical to write her audition from her perspective, for obvious reasons ^^ _

* * *

9. Into Simulation

"Attention please." The heavy voice of a man booms through the air. Snyder and I turn our heads in his direction. The man is tall and has a broad frame, bald with piercing blue eyes. White lines run across his bare skull, battle-scars. You wouldn't want to get in his way.

He crosses his arms when everyone's attention is on him.

"I am Jack Dale, one of the officers of The Force. You've come here because you want to be a part of this organization. A series of tests will show if you have the right capabilities to join us. These tests are not merely to test your physical strength, but they will also assess your critical and analytical thinking. Violence isn't always the answer. You will go into the tests in groups of six. You will be informed about your goal on site."

Jack takes out a clipboard and starts calling out names, ticking them off on the paper.

"Isabelle…" He frowns and looks back at the list.

"Is there an Isabelle here?" he asks and Snyder nudges me. I stumble forward.

"Y-yes, that's me," I reply shakily. Jack glances at me and turns his attention back on the clipboard, mumbling something about administrative blunders.

"Last name?" he asks, a rumbling sound coming from his chest. I swallow back my shock and clear my throat.

"Dawn, sir. Isabelle Dawn." My voice is steady and clear. Jack curtly nods and continues calling out names until everyone has been named. He then starts forming groups in alphabetical order.

"Isabelle Dawn, Nora East, Snyder Farlowe, Mick Finnigan, Myles Hannigan and Lorelai Healey, please step forward." Snyder and I move forward and I see others take a step as well. A short but brawny girl with auburn short hair juts her chin out determined, while a lanky guy with a long face and an almost gangly blond girl take a small step forward, nervously eyeing the ground. Across from us, a guy with reddish wild hair and sideburns casually steps forward, hands in his pockets. He catches me looking at him and winks slyly at me. I immediately look away.

"You will be group two."

I study our group. Snyder and the red-haired guy seem strong enough to put up a good fight, and the short girl could probably deal some good punches as well, but I had my doubts about the other two. Their length could indicate that they're fast, so that could be an advantage. I could only hope everyone had other skills as well.

"Right, it's time," Jack calls out and he steps in front of the glass wall of the pit. He waits until the murmur in the hall dies out, which only takes a few seconds. All eyes are on Jack now.

"The first group will now enter the simulation," he announces without further ado, not wasting any time on welcoming speeches or explanations. A group of youngsters enters the glass sphere through a door at the side. For a moment, nothing happens and they're just standing there in the middle of the pit, uncertain looks on their faces. But then, the inside of the sphere starts changing. Beneath their feet, the ground shifts, changing into earth and grass and around them, a forest appears, trees sprouting up from the newly formed earth. Within seconds they grow into blossoming trees. Darkness fills the air and i blink as my eyes adjust. It's like watching nightfall set in, but ten times fast-forwarded.

"Your task will be to track down a group of rebels hiding out in the forest. Their base is somewhere in the wilderness. Seek out their plans and their leader and make sure you bring him with you, _alive_," Jack instructs, his voice echoing through the sphere. He takes a step backward and closes the door.

I observe as the group gathers together to work out their tactics. When they're done, two run forward, while two others climb the trees. Smart, I think to myself. Find out your position first. I watch intently as the two ground soldiers sneak upon two rebels from the back, knocking them unconscious and taking their weapons. Studying their every move, I lean forward as the two soldiers in the trees jump down on two other rebels, eliminating them as well.

Each time they take down a rebel, the crowd around us cheers them on. I let my eyes slide over the audience, until I find Tobias. He and his friends are completely absorbed in the simulation; but when they shout and clap as another rebel is taken down, he remains silent, his expression grave. I frown. He's different, I had already come to realize that, but there's still something about him that I just can't put my finger on. He has build walls around him, but I could tell they hadn't always been there. I could sense it when he gave me one of those rare smiles. Something in him had been crushed, the pieces still remaining inside of him. Maybe someone needs to put him back together.

An elbow pokes in my side and I snap out of my thoughts.

"I hope those tall ones over there can take a hit," Snyder says to me in a low voice. I nod in agreement. I know I'm not that muscled, but obviously I had learned to deal with pain on a daily basis, so my stamina was okay.

The group in the simulation drag the rebel leader out of the shelter, but when one of them is just about to run back inside the building to grab the rebels' plans, an explosion shakes the ground. Flames shoot out of the roof, which collapses ,releasing dark plumes of smoke creeping out through the debris. The smoke starts filling the air inside the globe and the group runs through the woods, hauling the rebel leader along. When they're almost through the forest, close to the exit of the simulation, the whole scene disappears. The trees, grass and smoky air dissolve, and the rebel leader they're holding between them slips through their fingers like sand.

Jack opens the door and gestures them to exit the simulation. Applause rises from the bleachers and under loud clapping and whistling, the first group sit down at the far side of us. They're faces are red with exertion and their expressions are dazed and confused, as if they've just woken from a dream.

"Group two, your turn," Jack says and my heart lurches. I automatically follow Snyder as he stands up and we walk to the globe. I look at the others: the tall boy and girl look nervous and the smaller girl's expression is hard, but the way her eyes flash around betray her uneasiness. Snyder looks tense as well, his shoulders drawn up and his jaw set tight. The red-haired guy smirks as he glances at our expressions.

"You look like you've just been forced to eat a live snake," he grins and with his broad hand he slaps the back of the tall guy, who staggers forward a bit, caught off-guard.

"Take it easy guys, we'll blow any enemy to pieces." He shoots me one of those winks again and I can't suppress a small smile. He notices it and extends his hand toward me. I take it, and he shakes it heartily. The skin of his hand is rough and blistered, as if he'd been chopping wood for days.

"Mick Finnigan, at your service," he introduces himself, bowing his head and tapping the rim of an invisible hat.

"Izzy Dawn," I reply. I look at Snyder, standing next to me, and incline my head towards him.

"And this is Snyder." They shake hands and I can see some of the tension in Snyder's shoulders slip.

The small girl steps forward and introduces herself as Nora, her short auburn locks falling into her brown eyes. We all shake hands, and I hear the blond girl say her name is Lori. The tall guy is called Myles. He seems uncomfortable in his own body, like he has woken up one day and grown two feet overnight. His grey eyes are big and seem even more piercing by the stark contrast they form with his black hair. To my surprise, when he shakes my hand, his grip is firm and not weak, like Lori's. There might be more to him than meets the eye.

"All right, step in," Jack commands and we enter the globe. He closes the door behind us and for a moment, I'm afraid of feeling trapped. But when I look around, it's not the sense of encaging that strikes me, but the feeling of being small. Hundreds of people are staring down at us, watching our every move. A crushing sense of responsibility suddenly pushes down on my shoulders, weighing me down. Can I take on the scenario I'm about to face?

Before I can tell myself that this is all not real, it's all just a simulation and I should calm down, a rumbling starts building in the pit. I look around to see where the sound is coming from. The others are casting confused looks around, searching as well. The sound grows stronger, until I can feel it resonate through my entire body.

"It's the ground," Lori says and we all look down. The solid black floor is changing: I can see ridges forming, twisting into a symmetrical pattern. The colour starts shifting from black to a dull grey. Street tiles form beneath our feet. When I look up again, the sky is a bright blue, dotted with white streaks of clouds. Seagulls fly up high in the air, screaming as they pass over our heads. Jack's voice sounds through around us, but I can't see him anywhere.

"Your mission is to free a member of the Council. He's been kidnapped and held in the building you see before you."

In front of us is a high glass building rapidly takes shape. It reminds me of the Erudite offices and I feel a small twinge in my stomach. Light reflects of the glass, giving the building the appearance of a huge mirror. Steady flows of people move in and out of the large sliding doors that form the entrance.

"Bring the Councilmember back alive and try to cause as little havoc as you can: the premises is heavily guarded and you are outnumbered. Good luck."

With that grim last warning, his voice fades and we look at each other. I can't help but feel exposed, standing in the middle of the square in broad daylight. I quickly scan my surroundings and assess the situation: to our left is another office building, to our right are a few restaurants and bars.

"Let's find some cover over there first," I say as I point in the direction of the bars. The others look over to where I'm pointing, then nod and follow me as we slip into a shabby bar. Inside, we immediately huddle together to work out a game plan. The tall girl, Lori, immediately comes up with an idea.

"We need to send in a scout to find out about the level of security. He or she must uncover where the Councilmember is held. When we have this information, we'll be able to come up with a plan." We all agree with her proposal. After a short discussion, we decide that Nora will go in, as her short frame will help her manoeuvre more easily through the levels and because she is a woman. However stereotypical, a woman being a spy would be less suspicious than a man.

We watch silently as Nora walks out of the bar, her step confident and her head help up high. I admire her as she crosses the square and enters the building. She seems strong and independent, certain of herself. The minutes drag on as we wait, agonizing moments during which we can do nothing but sit around until Nora returns. Nobody talks – this isn't the time or place to get to know each other. Our focus is completely set on the assignment right now. Even Mick doesn't say anything, his fingers fidgetting absentmindedly with a coaster.

A hand is placed on my knee and I look up to see it's Snyder's. His expression is as nervous as mine probably is.

"Don't worry, we'll make it," he says assuredly, and I'm not sure whether he's talking to me or to himself. I nod and take his hand, squeezing it softly. I sigh and stare out the unwashed windows again. People move over the square, heads bobbing in all directions. Suddenly I discern short auburn swishing locks in the crowd. I sit up straight and crane my neck. The others notice and follow my gaze. Myles, the tallest of the group, slowly nods.

"It's her, she's back," he confirms. We wait in silence, the air between us growing heavy with tension. I try not to look up as Nora enters the bar and sits down at our table again.

"So, like Jack said, there's high level of security in the building. I didn't manage to inspect every floor, as only the first three floors are publicly accessible. When I went beyond them, there were armed guards waiting at the elevator doors, screening everyone who went in."

Lori sighs, reflecting my feelings. This would be harder than I'd anticipated. Nora continues, her voice low.

"There are also cameras monitoring the building, as far as I could see they cover all public spaces, individual rooms and some hallways. There's also one in the elevator."

Snyder curses under his breath and I look at the others, dismay on their faces. It's like I've swallowed a rock that is now rapidly making its way down my body, sinking down in my stomach. No, I tell myself. There has to be a way. I close my eyes as I try to think. Cameras on every level. That means we have to disable them, which means entering the control room. The control room's probably on the ground level, close to the elevator and the entrance, so they could move quickly through the building. But we have to be faster.

"I have an idea," I say slowly and five pairs of eyes stare at me incredulously. Keeping my voice down, I start taking them through my plan. Gradually, their expressions change from understanding, to optimism and finally to fierce concentration. Without any objections, the plan is taken on. We decide to move in groups. We walk across the square, Mick and Lori at the front, then Snyder and I, followed by Nora and Myles.

Mick and Lori enter the building first and Snyder and I wait before the entrance, casually talking about the weather. Mentally, I count down until three minutes have passed. Meanwhile, I watch whether there's no commotion inside. Once the right amount of time has passed, I nod at Snyder and we walk through the sliding doors. The hall is white, from the tiles on the floor to the ceiling, giving the inside just as stark an appearance as the outside. We pass by the reception desk without looking at the staff, heading for the elevator. We join the group waiting for the elevator to come down and I can see cameras hanging in the corners of the hall. My mouth is dry and I swallow, trying to act normal.

With a ping, the elevator doors slide open and we step in. My eyes scan the ceiling and I immediatly locate the camera. The doors close again and the elevator ascends one level. The bell sounds again and the doors slide open, people moving in and out. My heart rate picks up, this time not from the nerves, but from the adrenaline that rushes through my body. I look straight into the camera as we reach the second floor. Nameless people walk out and anonymous people step in. The doors slide shut again and I feel the elevator starts rising again. My eyes are still on the camera as we reach the third floor. People move out and less people move in again. There are about eight people in the elevator now. As the doors close, I fight the urge to push everyone out, knowing what we're about to do. The tug at my stomach when the elevator starts ascending again is my cue. Staring straight into the camera, I take a deep breath and I nod.

And then, hell brakes lose.


	10. Down the Shafts

_I'm so sorry for not updating! For most people summer means holidays, but for me it means work, a lot of work, to pay for my fees for college. That's why I didn't have any time to post :( I'll try my best to post at least one chapter each week! For now, R&R and thanks for reading!_

* * *

10. Down the Shafts

With a jolt the elevator comes to an abrupt halt. People shriek in fear as they grab for the bars at the sides to keep from falling over. The elevator shakes and suddenly stops moving, the lights above our heads flickering. I shoot Snyder a glance. The look on his face is grim, but we know everything is going according to plan. The intercom starts crackling and a female voice sounds through it.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have a defect with the elevator. Security will be coming up to fix the problem. Please stay calm, this will only take a few minutes." The relief of hearing Lori's voice takes the sharp edges off of my tenseness, but I remain highly alert. Some moments later, we hear the sound of voices coming from above us. After half a minute, light start creeping through a slit that grows wider between the elevator doors. Someone pushes a crowbar between them and wrenches them further apart. When the opening is big enough, the security above us start helping people crawl out of the elevator, helping each other climb up to the fourth floor.

Snyder and I are farthest back and last to go out. With a final exchange of looks, I move forward, helping a lady up to the opening. When she's up, Snyder pushes me up and I take the hand of the security guard who's reaching out for me. He helps me through the opening and I crawl onto the floor. Next to the guard helping people out is a guard keeping the door open with the crowbar. I instantly realize this is our chance.

As Snyder is the last one down there, there's no one to help him get up. I offer the guard to help him lift Snyder. He thanks me and I feel a pang of guilt in my chest, which I quickly suppress. It's not real.

We extend our hands to Snyder and he grabs them. As we start hauling him over, Snyder suddenly jerks the arm the guard is holding onto. The guard falters and with a look of shock, he tumbles forward into the elevator. Before he can get up and reach for Snyder, I pull him up to the floor.

"Hey! What do you think you –" My elbow on the side of his face immediately shuts the second guard up and he releases his grip on the crowbar. As in slow motion, I watch it fly through the air, passed the elevator doors. Before it falls down into the elevator, I dive for it and catch it just before it falls in. I quickly withdraw my hand as the doors slam shut again. I gasp. That was close. I hear banging coming from inside the elevator, but ignore the trapped guard. Snyder is grappling with the remaining guard, who has now forgotten about me. I sneak up behind him and lift the crowbar in the air. With a swooshing sound, it comes down on his head. The guard sags down to the floor, lying completely still.

I look at Snyder.

"Search him," I say in a cold voice that doesn't seem to belong to me. I turn around and study the elevator. Snyder joins me, a gun in his hand. To my surprise, he offers it to me.

"If I open up the elevator again, you can shoot the guy." I open my mouth in protest, but before I can voice my antipathy, he interrupts me.

"In the shoulder, I mean. Just make sure he can't get out." I shut up and mumble an 'okay'. We trade weapons. The gun feels oddly heavy in my hand. Snyder squeezes the crowbar between the doors again and starts tearing them open. I look down into the elevator. The guard gazes up and immediately starts reaching for the edge of the floor. I lean slightly forward into the shaft and aim. I have never shot before, so I'm kind of relieved that when I shoot I hit him in the leg. The guard cries out in pain and collapses to the floor. I let out a breath I didn't know I'd held in. Snyder looks over to the guard and frowns.

"The leg? Are you serious?" I shrug.

"Hey, I've never used one of these things before, just be happy I hit him, okay?" Snyder looks at me incredulously and shakes his head.

"Never mind." The intercom in the elevator comes to life again, cutting off our bantering. The crackling voice of Lori sounds through it again.

"Eleventh floor, and take out the guard's earpiece," is all she says before the intercom shuts off again. Snyder and I look at each other again, minds focused on our assignment. I walk over to the passed out guard sprawled out on the floor, squatting beside him. I brush the hair away from his ear and take out the earpiece. After quickly wiping it with my sleeve, I put it in. A buzzing fills my right ear, then I hear Lori's voice again.

"Everything's going to plan. I've managed to put your earpiece on a different channel so the other guards can't hear us. They're holding the prisoner on the eleventh floor. If you move up and come in via the elevator shaft, you're dead. Two guards are patrolling the lift doors. Your best shot is to go to the roof and re-enter the building via the ventilator shaft, moving down until you have localized the Councilmember. When you have, tell me his position so I can send the others up there to take down the security. They've shut down the camera-system on the eleventh, and I can't break through, so we depend on you. Got it?"

"Yes, understood," I reply and look at Snyder, who's still holding the elevator doors open.

"Do you think you'll be able to get in?" he asks, inclining his head towards the exposed elevator-shaft above us. I nod.

"If you give me a push." Snyder crouches, still holding on to the crowbar, and I carefully step onto his back. I reach for the top of the elevator and haul myself in. When I'm standing in the shaft, Snyder gives me a last wry smile before he lets go of the crowbar, letting the doors slam shut again.

I'm alone now. In the middle of the shaft are the cables, thick and wired. I take a deep breath and start climbing upward. As I get up higher and higher, I try not to look down into the black hole beneath me. The banging and wailing sounds of the trapped guard echo eerily around me. As I climb up, I can't help counting the doors I pass. When I'm at the tenth door, my hands are red and blistered from the rough cables. I force my arms and legs to keep on moving, making my way up.

Finally, I reach the top of the shaft. I'm panting by now, but I can't waste any time on catching my breath. Just to the right of the pulleys of the elevator, there's a hatch. I clamber up until I'm holding on to one of the pulleys, reaching for the shutter.

"Damn," I mutter. I'm barely able to touch the surface with my fingers, so pushing it open isn't even an option. Another idea pops up in my head. I hold on tightly to the pulley as I push myself off with my feet, swinging through the air. I try not to think of the fall down the shaft that would be my fate if this plan didn't work, instead swaying my legs from side to side. When I figure I have enough speed, I throw one leg out and kick against the hatch. It flies open and I can see the blue sky. I cling to the cable again, my arms trembling, weakened from holding the weight of my entire body. When the worst ache is over, I manage to get a grip on the edge, lifting myself through the shutter.

I crawl onto the gravelled roof, lying on my back for a few seconds until I force myself back up again. Time for the next step: the ventilation shaft. I scan the roof until my eyes meet an air-conditioning unit.

"Lori, I found the air-conditioning-system," I say, hoping she can still receive me on the roof.

"Yes, that's perfect. The unit is situated at the west hand corner: keep that in mind for your position. Go in," she replies and I head over to the installation. When I find an air grate, I start kicking it. I'm grateful for my heavy boots, protecting my feet from the impact. After a few more kicks, the trellis of the grate give way and my foot shoots through. I withdraw my foot and am able to bend the remaining latticework out of the way easily, until the hole is big enough to crawl through.

"Here goes nothing," I murmur as I slip in, trying not the get caught in the remaining trellis jutting out. Unfortunately, my dress hooks onto one of the bars. The airshaft is very narrow and I can hardly manoeuvre around, so I give it a tug. I hear the tearing of fabric and see the dress has ripped along the side. I groan. I'm definitely going to need a different outfit if I'm accepted into the Force. On my elbows and knees, I start crawling down the shaft.

After I round a corner, I can see the shaft splits, one tunnel continues straight ahead, the other going down. To my relief, I see handles at the side to climb down. Jumping down the shaft would cause a lot of noise and might give me away immediately. Quickly, I assess my position. I have moved north, so I'm probably still at the west side if the building. I descend down the tunnel and quietly lower myself into the next shaft. As I crawl through the narrow tunnel, every once I a while a grate gives me a peek into the rooms beneath me. Most of them are offices and meeting-rooms, some occupied and some empty. I make my way down to more tunnels that bring me down two floors, keeping at the west side, until I finally arrive on the eleventh floor.

My breath sounds loud in my ears and I try to keep my breathing shallow and quiet. As softly as I can, I start sneaking through the shaft. At each grate, I halt and cautiously peek through. Most rooms are empty and I keep moving. When I'm at the ninth grate, my breath halts. I can see guards, _many_ guards, lined along the walls of the office. In the middle of the room, there's a desk with a man behind it. I can see his back, his hands tied to the chair, his fear almost palpable. My heart hammers in my chest as I slowly back away from the grate, shuffling back to the former room. When I know I'm out of hearing-distance, I start whispering.

"Lori, I've found him. He's in the ninth room from the west hand corner. The Councilmember is sitting with his back to me. If I jump out, I can easily reach him. But there's security in there, _many _security," I warn her and wait for a reply. The earpiece starts crackling again.

"Okay, here's the plan. Snyder, Myles, Mick and Nora are on their way up. You wait in the shaft until they arrive, then jump out. Do not mingle in the fighting, but head straight for the prisoner. Release him and bring him down, that's your mission. Head for the stairs, as the elevator is still down. Mick will protect you when you lead the prisoner away. Before I send the rest in, could you give me an overall picture of the situation of the room?"

"Of course, give me a few minutes," I say and slowly slide forward on my belly to the room they're holding the Councilmember in again. I observe the guards. There are about eight of them within my field of vision, some walking around, others standing with their backs against the wall, posture rigid and eyes vigilant. They're all dressed in impeccable black suits, a gun sticking out of their belts. Every 10 minutes or so, the guards swap positions.

I push myself backwards down the shaft and reply to Lori.

"I can see about eight of them, but there might be more, I can't see the entire room through the grate."

"Thanks. I'm sending the other up. Remain in position until the others break down the door," she commands sternly. In any other situation I would have never complied if someone talked to me like that, but this was different. There were lives at stake now. I frown involuntarily as I start to think about this whole simulation. Could you actually _die_ while in here?

"Good luck," Lori says and I push the thought aside. The earpiece buzzes until all I hear is silence again.

"Thanks," I whisper and take a few deep breaths before I crawl back to the room with the prisoner again. Better not to consider such questions right now.


End file.
